|(HB pencil on A6 card)|
I decided to make this into a Christmas card and used photoshopped text on the front and inside. Not something I normally do, but I have to admit that I was actually pleased with how crudely letterpress they looked, although that might have more to do with the crappy printer I have and the cheap printer ink that I use. So if you've received one of these cards from someone, then I hope you liked it and the following seasonal tale contained within....
THE SANTA CLAUSE
I looked on in horror from my bedroom window at the events that were unfolding that night, scarcely believing what I was seeing. I was only six years old at the time, but I remember it very vividly.
"But I was only a child!" pleaded Carrol, as he knelt in the snow, surrounded by Santa and his four elves. "How can I be blamed for something I did as a child?"
"When any child writes a letter to me they enter into a binding contract. I kept my side of the deal by gifting you your train set. You failed to keep your side," Santa explained. "I was very dubious at first, when I received your letter. You weren't exactly the nicest of children, were you?"
"You were a right little bastard!" added Noodles the elf, waving his switch-blade, menacingly, in front of Carrol's face.
"However," Santa continued. "I was prepared to give you a chance of redemption, seeing that you'd promised to be a "very good boy" in your letter." Santa nodded at the elf Flipz, dressed in a bowler hat and fur coat, who took out an old piece of paper with crude crayon writing on it. He showed it to Carrol. It clearly said on it that he'd be a "verry good boy" and it was signed by him when he was 7 and a quarter years old. He was now thirty-nine.
"But you weren't a good boy, were you Danny?" sneered Flipz, putting the evidence back in his pocket. "The little shit that you were, grew up into the big, diarrhoetic shit-stain you are now."
"No, no, I've led a good life!" Carrol protested.
"Bollocks!" blurted out Hudz, who was the elf dressed in a hood and goggles. "You became an estate agent, which was bad enough, but then you became a fucking politician."
"A fucking politician!" Noodles repeated in disgust. "A cunt by another name!" I remembered that they'd been quite colourful with their language, these elves, but Santa seemed fairly relaxed about it. I suppose it was probably because his little helpers did work hard, so Santa gave them a great deal of freedom in how they behaved. Sort of like midget dockers."Please!" Carrol begged. "I promise I'll be good from now on. I promise." Then he just broke down and wept in front of them. They had no sympathy for him.
"You spineless streak of jizz!" said Hudz. "At least take it like a man."
"Try to see it from our point of view, Danny," said Santa. "Take poor Twinkles here." He pointed to an elf dressed in a bobble hat and scarf, which covered half of his face. This elf had been quiet throughout all of this and was a little embarrassed that he was now the focus of attention. "For months, he worked night and day on your train set. He built each and every intricate part of it with his own hands, so that you could have a fully working scale engine with realistic steam and engine sounds. I doubt you even appreciated the weathering on the tracks, or the ornate station and model passengers. All hand-painted by him." He laid a hand on the bowed head of Twinkles, who seemed to shed a sorrowful tear. "He was utterly devastated by what you did with it."
"You swapped it for a cheap, shitty bike!" growled Flipz. That caused Twinkles to totally lose it and he sprang at Carrol, punching and kicking him in a mad, vengeful frenzy. I couldn't quite hear what he was shouting as it was mostly muffled by his scarf, but I did catch words like "twatshite, shit-fucker" and "cuntoid" in amongst it all. Hudz and Flipz managed to drag him off and calm him down.
"Just look what you've done to him," Noodles said to Carrol. "He's a top elf is Twinkles, all the other elves like him. He'll do anything for anyone. You're off the fucking cuntometer, you are," and with that he sliced the side of Carrol's face with his blade.
"I think we need say little more," Santa began to conclude. He then took out a huge handgun from his cloak and pointed it at Carrol, who was still pleading for his life. "Merry Christmas, Danny Carrol." Then he pulled the trigger. At point blank range like that, the bullet practically blew the back of Carrol's head off, causing a disturbing spray pattern in the snow behind him. The elves danced and cackled with glee at the spectacle, then turned to head back to their sleigh. Twinkles held back a while and looked down triumphantly at the body. He then pulled down his scarf and spat at it. I mean, it wasn't just an ordinary casual spit. He took the time to growl up a green one before gobbing it out onto the lifeless corpse. Then he scampered after the others. They got onto the reindeer driven sleigh and all at once it leapt into the night sky from where it came. As I watched it, I saw them all turn to me and wave me goodbye. It was at that point that I wet myself.
All that had happened thirty years ago. I was grown up now, with my own family and kids. Today, before they went to school, my son and daughter showed me the letters they'd written to Santa, which they were about to post. My reaction to it was something they didn't expect.
"No!" I said, grabbing the letters from them and tearing them up. "Never write to Santa! Never, ever, ever!" Both my wife and kids must have thought I'd suddenly gone mad, especially when I then began to eat the pieces of the letters to make sure. My kids started crying and I could see the burning rage in my wife's eyes as I did this. She managed to calm them down as I chewed on the paper and took them to school. I knew that when she came back, she'd kick the living shit out of me for doing that, but I did what I had to do.